Chapter FOURTEEN
Damon
I watched from behind that damn potted plant like a peeping Tom.
Flowers! He brought her fucking flowers. Expensive ones too. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Because you don’t want a relationship, you asshole.
As I watched the fat little man in the three piece suit follow Liz to his limo, all I could think about was how this wouldn’t be a fair fight if I laid the fucker out flat, dragged him into the bushes, and then comforted Elizabeth when she realized she’d just been stood up.
Definitely not her type anyway. I saw that right off by the pained expression on her face when she looked at him. She was kind though. It would be just like her to put on a happy face. I guess he wasn’t that terrible. And he obviously wasn’t a player. I mean, how many women could he possibly have dated in his lifetime? Four? Five maybe, tops. Unless there was more to the man than met the eye. I wasn’t jealous. Not really. I simply didn’t want him near my girl.
My girl? Did I just think that? How could I not? The lady brought sex appeal to a whole new level for me. With skin like soft velvet and a pussy like melted butter, my cock hardened to fucking granite just thinking about her. Liz was more than that though. She didn’t take shit from anyone. Not even me. Add brains to that description and I could imagine her running her own business some day.
The Delaney Club.
Fuck! What the hell was I thinking—agreeing to that little contest between Tabitha and I?
What was my grandmother thinking? And getting married? Geeze, she must have been smoking some high-class weed to think that was a good idea.
Wouldn’t be the first time, Delia made some freakishly outlandish decision on my behalf—although some of those decisions turned out sweet if I do say so myself. When I was fifteen, she’d caught me masturbating in my tree house. I’d actually had one of those life-sized blow-up dolls I’d conned one of my friends older brothers to buy for me online. I spread shaving cream all over the doll’s mouth just so it would feel slick when I stuck my dick in it. Lame, I know, but I was just a sexed up kid. It was the only lubricant I could get my hands on. After Delia stopped laughing so hard the tears ran from her eyes, she actually bought me a hooker. A…real….fuck my virgin cock off….hooker! And not just any hooker.
Samantha!
She was twenty-one, an older woman with soft curves and supple tender lips. All of them. Long black hair nearly brushed her perky ass and her smile was exquisite. She took her time with me, showed me how to please a woman for which I was grateful. A little too grateful. For a time we had a regular gig going on. Every Wednesday. Before piano practice but after dinner. I had so much sex at fifteen, my dick started to smile. So did my friends when I told them I’d given up every kind of sport in favor of piano.
Come to think of it, why my grandmother now thought I was gay was beyond me. Maybe she didn’t. She may have said that just to get my goat.
Sex with Samantha was exhilarating and free. At fifteen, I thought I was in love. That is until I met my wife. Boy, was that a mistake.
When I turned twenty I married Agatha Grimsley. Against my grandmother’s wishes I might add, but we were in love and nothing could stop us. We eloped on Valentine’s day, but by Christmas of the following year I caught her with another man and doing drugs. After I got over my anger, I tried to get her psychiatric help, but of course she wouldn’t go for it. I tried to end the marriage, but she said she would die if she couldn’t love me anymore. So I to give her money. That was a mistake too because you can’t buy off a schizophrenic. When she changed her mind and took the cash, I thought my worries were all over.
I was wrong.
Poor Samantha had stopped by to tell us she was getting married and starting a new life. Agatha stopped by just before, picking up some luggage she’d left behind. When she saw Samantha, she went insane, but I didn’t know that at the time because I was taking a shower. She snuck up behind the poor girl and stabbed her with a butcher knife. I heard the commotion and lots of shouting. The knife slashed in my direction as I walked out in a towel.
Six months later Agatha was behind bars serving three life sentences. Samantha survived, but we never saw her again.
So, yeah. Marriage was not for me so why did Delia insist upon it? I had no idea and I didn’t much care.
I ducked inside an empty room just as Elizabeth and the date were getting ready to leave her room. I could still hear them as they passed by, muttering about the weather, and any other inane conversation to break the silence.
I hopped down the back staircase, taking the steps two at a time until I reached the parking garage under the hotel. When I found my parked silver Porsche, I got inside and turned the key inside the ignition. As the engine roared to life, I pulled up leaving a few car lengths behind the limo. I was just in time to see the driver get out. He opened the door for Elizabeth and she got in.
God, she had gorgeous legs. Impossibly long in a tight leather skirt. So short in fact, I had a glimpse of her flesh-colored panties encasing that smooth pink pussy—my jaw tightened and my hands formed into fists. Wait! Were those flesh-tones or was she going commando?
Holy fuck!
Now, not only was I unhappy that the woman I was possibly falling in love with was dating another guy, but I needed to deal with my raging hardon. My cock had gone stone fucking hard—seeing her all dolled up like that. For him!
I imagined she dressed that way for me. Only me.
I could see my hands sliding up inside her skirt, my fingers hooking the elastic of her panties, skimming the mound with my thumbs before sliding the thin lace down her legs. Then she’d straddle me, take me deep inside her. Bury me tip to hilt while she promised everything was for me. Always forever for only me.
I imagined fucking her inside the limo while we kissed and groped in the back seat. Those long gorgeous curls would fall over her face. Half concealing. Half on fire. Until she couldn’t take it anymore and she threw her head back.
I could almost feel her in my ear, all breathy and filled with longing. Begging me to make her come.
Faster.
Deeper, Damon.
Please.
My cock throbbed as I thought about how she’d rip the top of her dress down so I could play with her tits. I’d fondle and suck their little nubs and then pull back to watch them bounce while she pounded on my cock. I slipped down in the car, groaning as I felt the bulge begin to grow. Unzipping my pants so I could breath, I saw a wet spot in my boxers.
Fuck! I was a spying on her with another man. I was a damn spy and I’d almost come inside my pants again. I needed to stop this shit. What was I, a fucking stalker? I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind. The only thing that made me feel better about all this, was I’d promised Jason I’d keep Liz safe from this moron in case the whole date went south. He actually wanted to pay me. That made me laugh, especially when he insisted I needed the money.
If he only knew what a joke that was. In the real scheme of things, the Club was small potatoes. My real money was wrapped up in stocks, bonds, an oil company or two, and even a dance studio for the very rich. I guess my little charade of appearing hapless and hopeless around clients worked out pretty well. Jason said he trusted me. I’ve no idea why. Unless it was because he’d gotten the impression I couldn’t possibly be interested in his sister. Life was weird. Jason and I had become fast friends, but rather than have someone he knew and trusted show Elizabeth a good time, he’d picked a total stranger based on some stupid list he and Liz cooked up.
The limo turned onto Maple and Vine with me right behind them. I had to speed up so I wouldn’t get stuck behind the light. When they pulled up in front of the Lafayette Restaurant, I relaxed a little. At least he wasn’t taking her on a deserted dirt road. The guy had money but he also had class. Lafayette was one of the best known restaurants on this side of town, the service impeccable with a perfect view of the White House.
I turned off my car and slid myself down so I wouldn’t be seen. I couldn’t go inside because Jason didn’t want Liz seeing me which seemed like a pretty good plan. I figured I’d just wait, make sure she looked okay when they left the restaurant. Wasn’t crying or anything, and follow them back. How long could it take to have dinner, right?
Turned out, an hour and fifteen was all it took, which I found odd for the Lafayette. This was the place to be. It was an establishment that catered to presentation as well as strange cuisines. It usually took that long just to get through the appetizers. My heart lurched and I almost bolted from the car when I saw her face as she stepped out the door. She looked scared shitless and I didn’t know why.
Then I saw the object of her anxiety. A man who looked around sixty was waving a cigarette around near Liz’s face. He wore a charcoal grey suit which didn’t exactly match the white scruffy beard and brown slouch hat perched on his head. He looked like a cross between a refugee and a criminal from Texas.
Elizabeth’s face was beet red, but not because of fear. Her apprehension had turned to rage the minute the bugger put a hand on her arm. I swear I saw lightning flash from her eyes. Whoever this guy was, she certainly didn’t like him. As she shook his hand off her arm, Tom came to her rescue, getting in the guy’s face and raising a his fist in warning. Liz and the slouch hat guy appeared to be arguing. Then the limo pulled up. As the driver got out to open the back door, the slouch hat guy sneered, flicked his cigarette into the bushes, and stormed back inside the restaurant.